


Dark Intentions

by MinhAnh



Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: C137cest, Inspired by Twitter, M/M, POV Outsider, Possessive Behavior, Size Difference, somebody helps me pls, sorry - Freeform, un-betaed, why is it so difficult to write dialogue
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-10
Updated: 2020-05-17
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:15:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24101179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MinhAnh/pseuds/MinhAnh
Summary: "There is something off about the short kid in his class"
Relationships: Morty Smith/Original Male Character(s), Rick Sanchez/Morty Smith
Comments: 22
Kudos: 111





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Once again, I'm not a native speaker and I have no beta, so please go easy on any mistake of mine. I'm a whore for size difference and possessive Rick, so, there is that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by this twitter https://twitter.com/portaIguns/status/1257817245293649920

There is something off about the short kid in his class, Edward thinks while looking at Morty stretching his hand to reach the top of the bookshelf to no avail. The shelf is too high and even if Morty is standing on his tiptoes, he is still unable to push the book into its place. He and Morty have been in the same class since they were twelve, and they live five-house apart but for the last two years, Morty seems to not physically change at all. While most of the kids his age shot up after puberty hits, Morty somehow looks almost the same as he was when he was twelve. Yeah, he is an inch taller, but his features remain soft and baby-ish, his hands are still small and delicate, and his big brown eyes always hold that curious and naive stare that made him look even younger. While Brad and he and other guys started to have facial hair and leg hair, his face stays smooth and round. _He looks... cute, kind of adorable actually._

Morty turns his head, apparently has realized Edward was staring intently at his face. He furrows his eyebrows and tilts his head, the movement resembles a little sparrow, especially with his curly brown hair and amber eyes. Edward feels his face heat up and before he could say something stupid and embarrassing, he snatches the book out of Morty’s hand and puts it on the shelf. “Y-you look like you are having a problem so...” great, now he is stuttering. Morty’s eyes are wide and he seems a bit shocked, but he stutters out a small “Thank you” and smiles tentatively at him.

The next time Morty struggles with the books on the top shelf, he stands behind him and pushes them in for him, again and again, and again. The fifth time Morty finally snaps and elbows him, clearly frustrated.

“Could – could you stop that, jeez! I could do that on – on my own!”

“You are too short for that, man. Just let me help.” Edward shrugs.

“N – no I’m not!” Morty says, more angrily now.

“Yes, you are.”

“No, I’m not.” Morty huffs.

“You are tiny.” Edward smiles, finding the whole exchange quite amusing.

“No, I’m not.” Morty is… _whining_?

“You are though, we have studied together for almost 3 years now and you gained, like, one inch or something. Even the chicks are taller than you! Dude, did you not drink enough milk or something?” He jokes. “It looks as if you accidentally ate Alice’s shrinking pills and stopped growing. Did your mom not feed you enough food?” He means it as a joke, but instead of bursting out laughing, the smile on Morty’s face freezes. His expression then turns pale and a little bit alarmed.

Edward panics, afraid he touched some sensitive topic. But according to what he remembers, Morty’s parents are good people, they certainly are not the abusive type. He hesitantly put a hand on Morty’s slender shoulder, secretly marvelling at how small his bones are and carefully asks him. “What’s the matter? Are you alright?”

Morty flinches at his touch and quickly shies away from his hand. Edward drops his hand immediately. Morty’s stutters come back at full force.

“D – Do I? A – Am I really look the same for the last three years? Do – do my height barely cha-change at all?” He seems terrified for some unknown reasons, his eyes are wide as saucers, and his voice is high-pitched and cracked at some parts. His expression is of pure terror as if Edward just told him that he was cursed and a monster was coming after him. Edward tries to calm him down, holding both his hands up and speaks in a soothing and placating voice.

“Wow, calm down, Morty! It is not a big deal! May - maybe you are just a late-bloomer, just wait for a couple of years! I bet three years later, you might be even taller and buffier than me! The girls will be all over you! I don’t know, maybe you might have a chance with Jessica or someone even hotter!” He forces out a laugh, trying to ease the worry on Morty’s face.

His positive attitude works somehow, Morty gradually becomes calmer. His eyes no longer have that frightened stare and he chuckles hesitantly.

“Y-yeah. S – Sorry, oh jeez, I – I freaked out a little bit. Weird, ha? Maybe you are right. It – It's just only now I realize that everyone is almost a head taller than me, but nobody seems to say anything about it and I think I was overthinking it or something, you know? But-but most of the time I am with Rick and he is, like, twice my size, so I rarely see any problem at all.” He stutters nervously, self-consciously rubbing the back of his neck.

“Rick? Do you mean your grandfather? Yeah, you are right, he towers over most people. If you are his grandchildren, you will eventually reach his height.” He assures Morty.

Morty does not seem assured at all though, his eyes have that far-away stare that is far too wise for someone so young. He mumbles under his breath. “Only if I live long enough for that. With all the fucked-up stuff going on in my life, _I’ll be lucky if I reach twenty._ ”

“Woah, chill out Morty, you are only fifteen!” He slaps Morty’s back playfully, trying to lighten the mood.

Morty opens his mouth, intending to respond to his words, but he closes it off immediately when _an honest-to-God green portal_ appears right in the middle of the library.

“Mo- _burp_ -Morty what happened? You-you are supposed to be home fifteen minutes ago! I already told you, school is for dumb people who are too afraid of thinking, but - but your parents were so insistent on forcing you to go to this glorified definition of prison. Come - come on now, we have some jobs to do on planet B-99, you-burp-you are gonna love…” Mr Sanchez cuts off mid-sentence, finally realizes that Morty is not alone.

Edward’s mouth hangs open in shock, he knew Morty’s grandfather is some kind of mad genius or something similar but never had first-hand experience with it. Everybody in the library keeps on doing what they are doing as if this is normal though, so he assumes they must have got used to this kind of science-fiction thing at this point. But still, it is so mind-blowing when you see a man casually walking through a circle of light.

He skitters away from Morty when Mr Sanchez’s icy blue eyes linger on the close distance between them, awkwardly clearing his throat. Inside his head, he chides himself, _great, now you are acting weird for no reason at all_. He opens his mouth, intending to offer a greeting but it chokes in his throat. Morty’s grandfather's eyes are looking at him, no, not so much looking as _violently penetrating him._ For the first time in his short life span, Edward experiences pure terror, the kind livestock feels when they are strapped down and the butcher’s knife is hanging above their head. The fright renders him emotionless. The brief look from the man inexplicably stretches to a lifetime of being strangled by invisible hands.

Mr Sanchez’s expression does not change though, his face remains apathetic. He was not even standing straight, lightly swaying to the right as if he has had too much drink, but his fierce eyes tell a whole another story. The left side of his ridiculous unibrow slightly is raised giving the impression that he is surprised to find Edward’s presence, under them the half-lidded eyes pierce through Edward’s entire existence.

“Who the hell he is, Morty, and why do you take so – so fucking long?” He asks and averts his eyes from Edward to Morty, his voice is slightly drawn out with the impression of boredom. His hand twitches around the object with the green ball of light radiating from it as one would do when testing their grip around a gun.

Time and space snap back to their pace as if commanded by his words and Edward can breathe again. Beside him, Morty scrambles back on his feet and hurriedly walks to his side, complaining all the time.

“Jeez, R-Rick, he is just a friend and it – it was not my fault that I only slept for three hours last night and cer - certain _someone_ prevented me from completing my homework which led to Mr.Steward being angry at me and - and telling me to spend after school hours sorting all the books in – in the library, you know?”

Lucky for Edward, Morty’s words direct his grandfather’s attention to him. The man rolls his eyes and shots back. “Homework is for idiots, Morty and – and if you had not fucked things up as bad as you did, you whiny little bitch, we – we could have got out much easier instead of _getting stuck in that fucking tiny closet for an hour._ ”

Morty does not back down though. “Oh, geez, yeah yeah, you are always right Rick, _blame everything on me_! I – I think you made me develop Claustrophobia or – or something.”

“ _“Claustrophobia”_ huh, Morty? Wow, such a big word. Careful, you might burn that peanut brain of yours out.”

The conversation between the two sounds pretty weird to Edward. He rarely sees someone address their grandfather by their real name likes Morty does and even though it is not rare for grandparent and grandchildren to have such a close bond, the way Morty’s grandfather casually interrupts Morty’s study do drag him to mysterious places while deliberately ignoring his protest evokes a deep sense of _discomfort_ in him. He watches their banter silently, believing that they have totally forgotten about his existence now, then, Morty turns his head around and smiles hesitantly at him.

“B – bye, Edward. See – see you tomorrow. You – you know, since the teacher said we – we have to continue to do this for the rest of the week and you – you and I must do this together so…” Both of his cheeks are rosy pink and he has that shy look in his eyes that makes Edward’s skin tingle with anticipation for no reason. From the corner of his eyes, Edward notices how Mr Sanchez’s expression goes cold when Morty’s attention shifts from his grandfather to him, and the chill returns with much more intensity than before. Morty’s grandfather does not tolerate the discomfort of being shortly ignored by his grandson. He demands Morty’s attention back to him by roughly seizing Morty’s bird bone wrist in his large, callous hand, violently tugging and pushing him through the green portal, turning a blind eye to Morty’s indignant squeak.

“R – Rick! Oh, jeez, at least let me say goodbye like a normal person!” The last few letters of his words are sadly swallowed by the green fluid. Before he could let out a breath which he does not know he has been holding, Mr Sanchez’s last glance back at him before goes after Morty triggers all the warning alarms in Edward’s brain. Suddenly, the fearful whispers about the mysterious death of Frank who often made blatant threats to Morty before Mr Sanchez's arrival and the discreet advice of some students telling others to not bother with Mortimer Smith’s affairs seem not so over the top now. Especially, with the said boy’s grandfather, who invented a device that could move between space, practically tears a hole through your body while looking at you when you made the smallest attempt to hold a normal _(or not so normal, his heart does beat a little faster than normal after all)_ conversation to Morty.

Edward stands alone in the now empty library, wondering what the hell just actually happened to him for the last ten minutes and how the fuck Morty’s grandfather was so _terrifying_ when he was at least in his seventies.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I intended to write 2 chapters and finished the story, I swear, but it just... wrote itself? So, yeah, one more chapter to come :))))

Their detention has been cancelled and they are no longer need to sort out the books in the library. Edward receives the news after their lesson with Mr. Steward has ended. He nods his head and murmurs out a “Thank you” to the teacher. However, he can’t help but notice the sightless and blank stare in Mr. Steward’s eyes and her emotionless tone when talking about it. She seems… off. From his experience, Mr. Steward is a tough teacher, rarely lets any students off the hook without a prolonged punishment. But he does not think too much about it, just feeling lucky and grateful that maybe the teacher had decided to forgive the two of them on a whim.

He turns around to catch Morty’s small figure, an exciting cheer lingering on the tip of his tongue, just to catch Morty’s back disappearing behind the front door of the classroom. Intrigued, he follows right behind him after throwing a quick excuse to Mr. Steward. Morty is acting oddly today as well. He avoided his greeting and averted his eyes whenever Edward looked at him and each time Edward tried to speak to him, he stammered out some weak excuses and bolted out. Eventually, Edward finds Morty at his locker, clumsily takes out some books for the next class in his uncharacteristic brown long sleeve turtleneck. The shirtsleeves are giving him trouble, they cover haft of his palms and make the books slip out of his grasp, but for unknown reasons, Morty does not roll them up.

Edward hesitantly reaches out his hand and opens his mouth, plans to ask Morty to go to his home to play some video games now that they do not need to go to the library anymore, but the sudden appearance of a green circle of light on the lockers right next to Morty’s beats him to it. Mr. Sanchez’s lanky frame walks out, roughly yanking Morty’s upper arm and dragging him through the portal, ignoring Morty’s weak protests. Things happened so fast that Edward’s hand barely brushes Morty’s shoulder, mouth is still left hanging. The look Mr. Sanchez shoots at him over his shoulder is smug and triumphant, as if he has won a game Edward does not remember he agreed to participate in.

* * *

Since the start of high school, Morty has been an easy target for the bullies. He is the odd one out in the crowd, the outcast, hardly has any friend, and often being laughed at for being considered as a child with learning problems. It does not help that he is small and self-conscious, his features scream helplessness and vulnerability, so any wannabe bully in the school considers him as the perfect person to be picked on. Sure, Frank’s death has caused some uncertainty among them, but human beings are stupid and forgetful, they do not know a warning until it hit them right in their face. This time, quite literally.

One of the newly transferred students has stupidly decided that the perfect way to build a reputation of being new the King of the school would be beaten up Morty in the bathroom stall. Edward happens to just be in the room when they drag poor Morty in and process to beat the shit out of him. Protective instinct kicks in inside him and he is ready to burst open the door of his stall to punch someone and quite certainly getting punched in return like some stupid kid with a hero complex. However, Morty has already in motion.

Edward hears a scream first, and then a string of obscene curses and a slap that rings in the small room. Turn out, Morty has bitten a douchbag’s hand and gets backhanded for that. Edward stands, dumbfoundedly, seeing Morty goes absolutely feral on the bastards. He kicks and punches and claws at their faces. His eyes are wide and frantic with primal fear, his breath comes short and ragged and the absolute terror is carved deep in his face. Despite Morty’s violent outburst, his victory is short-lived. A member of the gang, Roland – Edward’s mind helpfully reminded him, roughly grabs Morty’s collar and pushes him to the sink. If Morty was panicking before, he goes totally hysterical now. Morty lets out an ear-splitting scream, both of his legs kicks furiously and when he realizes fighting with people who are almost twice his size is not gonna work out for him, he quickly bends his knee and slipped out of the too big shirt. Roland’s brief surprise allows Morty to escape and craw on the floor.

But Roland is not the only one in the room, another boy easily snatches Morty’s ankle in one hand and tugs him backwards. His hand balls into a fist, ready to deliver a bone-crushing punch to Morty’s face. Edward’s mind snaps out of the shock and pushes him to move. He runs at full speed and knocks the scumbag on the floor, clumsily throwing some hits at the boy’s face. Suddenly, an arm is wrapped around his neck, clamping down on his exposed neck and tugging backwards, choking him. A boy violently drags him on the floor and throws him unceremoniously on the wall. His shoulder crashes on the hard surface and lets out a painful crack. But they do not give him time to feel the ache sink in, someone is grabbing his head and laughing at his pathetic effort.

“Look like we have a hero here, so eager to save the little _faggot_ , huh? Ohhhh, is he your boyfriend? He certainly looks cute though, you guys are perfect together, a couple of useless bitches.” They all laugh mockingly.

He looks up from the floor when the grip on his hair tightens. Taking in Morty’s state, his eyes widen comically in shock. Morty does not wear anything under the sweater. His upper body is covered in bruises, finger-shaped marks colouring his thin wrists and narrow waist, purple dots littering his sharp collarbones and what makes Edward nauseous is the red bite marks decorating Morty’s delicate neck. They are deep and brutal as if somebody has put serious effort into blemishing the pale flesh. At his age, Edward has watched enough porn to understand that those marks are anything but innocent, they scream signs of something _sexual_. They are unsettling symbols of _possession and dominance_ , a grim warning to idiots who are stupid enough to touch Morty. It scares Edward to see them on someone at the same age as him rather than on a porn star.

Roland and his pathetic band of friends quickly notice the desperate and defeated look in Morty’s eyes when he is stripped bare in front of them. One of them whistles with clear mockery in their voice, their words spill out like acid on Morty’s skin.

“Wow, look like somebody had some fun. Who is the lucky guy, huh? Edward over there? Little Morty here won’t mind having a round with us, right? _What a fucking little tease_.” He leers.

Morty has gone completely pale, shame and fury twist the expression on his face, his eyes are shiny with tears and his lips wobbled. Though, despite the pain and the humiliation, Morty clenches his teeth and does not spill a single tear even when the two hands holding each of his arms twists harshly. When Edward is ready to resign to his fate of being beaten half to death with Morty in the stinking male bathroom, the sound of electricity pierces through the cramped space. The eerie neon green light appears abruptly with a subtle smell of burnt plastic, from the center of the light, a tall figure walks out.

It is Mr. Sanchez.

“ _Rick…_ ” Morty says. His voice, small, pained, and completely drenched in hysteria grabs his grandfather’s attention instantly.

Mr. Sanchez whipped his head to look at Morty, his eyes blazing with contained anger.

“Let go of him.”

Four simple words and Edward has already felt the familiar terror creeping up his spine, even though the threat is not directed at him. Despite the few rushed encounters between them and the cold, sarcastic and indifferent façade Mr. Sanchez often wears, Edward is always wary of Morty’s grandfather. Right now, in the confined boy bathroom with his grandson held captive and clear evidence of something more horrible had happened, Mr. Sanchez's upcoming unpredictable response makes Edward’s muscles freeze with nerve-wracking anxiety. His limited imagination dreads to think about how will the situation turn out to be. The fear evoked inside him is primitive, the basic instinct that was imprinted in human biology since the early days of evolution. Edward holds his breath. If Roland and his friends value their lives, they better let go of Morty now.

But the world is full of fools who know nothing about danger until they are strung up by their guts. After the temporary shock at the presence of Mr. Sanchez, Roland remains nervous but not entirely alarmed. He still thinks Rick Sanchez is a harmless old man who is only capable of some stupid magic tricks. He opens his mouth as if to say some smart retorts, but seemingly, Mr. Sanchez has run out of patience. He pulls out a strange gun from the inner pocket of his white lab coat and shots Roland right in his chest. Roland does not have time to scream. Edward swears he blinks just once and the next second he re-opens his eyes, an ice sculpture has formed right in front of him. Roland’s expression is still frozen in mid fear and surprise. The remaining two probably understand their situation now.

One of them hastily let go of Morty and sprints to the door, attempting either to escape or to call for help. He achieves neither though, he can not outrun Mr. Sanchez’s rage. The moment he touches the doorknob, the bullet reaches him. The last one standing is clearly shaking, but his grip tightens in Morty’s hair, forcing Morty to stand up, shielding him from the outraged man’s gun. Morty lets out a distressed whimper.

“S – stop! Or – or I’m gonna hurt him!” His voice quivers with fright.

The expression on Mr. Sanchez’s face could most likely make demons and monsters drop to their knees and weep for mercy.

“I am not above _killing children,_ mind you. If you let go of him now, I will grant you a less painful punishment.” The hand holding the gun does not shake. “And I can guarantee you that something trivial like police and laws won’t save you from me. I promise I would make you die an agonizing death then disappear from this world, completely erased from anyone’s mind. No one, not even your parents or your siblings will remember you, you would just simply not exist.” Morty’s grandfather bares his teeth, paying no mind to the fact that he has just _casually mentioned his disregard for killing minors_. His eyes have that manic glint of barely covered rampage which belongs to a man who has done monstrous things because of nothing but his thirst for destruction. At that moment, Edward thinks he has seen the real epitome of ultimate power, the perfect embodiment of godlike force.

In the split second of hesitance, the boy lets his guard down and Morty seizes the opportunity. He stomps, hard, on the poor bastard leg and elbows him right in the rib, breaking himself free from the bully. Morty makes a mad dash to grab the shirt on the floor, fully ignores everything in the room. The last boy leans forwards, intending to catch him, but a warning shot centimetres away from his right foot prevents him from moving further.

“I won’t do that if I were you.” Mr Sanchez smiles uncannily.

“Come here, Morty.” He commands, voice unusually soft. Morty has just finished dressing and obeys his order wordlessly. His head bends, staring sightlessly at the floor when he walks to his grandfather’s side. He does not even glance at Edward’s presence. The moment he reaches his place, Mr. Sanchez’s remaining hand easily finds it place around the back of Morty’s neck, squeezing lightly. A gesture of comfort or an act of showing control? Edward is not sure, but the lying implications his mind is cooking up make him a little bit sick.

“You okay, buddy? T – talk to me, Morty. Tell – tell me, are - are you okay?” There is a slight urgency in his voice and Morty notices it too. He clings to his grandfather’s white lab coat, mutter out a tiny “I’m fine.” His voice is still hoarse from the screaming, but the tentative gesture seems to dampen Mr. Sanchez’s alarm. He trails his large hand down Morty’s slender shoulder, lightly gripping it in an encompassing hold, then let it go. Edward’s stomach twists in unease.

The terrified look on the bully’s face only becomes worse when Mr. Sanchez advances toward him, his mouth stretches in a bloodthirsty smile. Edward swears he has seen the incarnation of Avenging Angel in the way Mr. Sanchez’s capturing the boy’s throat in one quick strike with his right hand, practically strings him up single-handedly. Mr. Sanchez easily holds him mid-air as though he is considering what to do next with a piece of meat, leaving the bully choked on his breath, his face is alarmingly purple. Edward is rendered astonished by the sheer strength of Morty’s grandfather. Then, Mr. Sanchez slams him at the bathroom countertop, pushing his head under into the sink. The mirthless grin his face wears broadens when he turns the tap on to the highest level, letting the water run freely down the bully’s face, drowning him. The muffled begging and the thrashing of the poor bastard’s legs fall on deaf ears.

Edward can not believe it, Mr. Sanchez is really going to kill the boy for daring to hurt Morty, the pure cruelty on his face does not lie. _Oh God, oh God, I can’t, I can’t._ His mind is barely able to catch up with what is exactly happening right now. A few minutes ago, he was trying to help Morty escape from being beaten and the next, he is frozen on the dirty bathroom floor, watching a man murdering a kid for being stupid enough to touch his grandson. His mind brakes to a halt at the thought of Morty, desperately clinging to sanity. _Yes, yes, Morty will be able to stop Mr. Sanchez._ He turns to Morty to look for some solutions, but the words get stuck in his mouth.

Morty is watching his grandfather as well. However, his face is cold, indifferent and his eyes have that blank stare again. He only watches on and does not make a move to stop his grandfather. Edward’s inside turns cold. Nonetheless, he has no other way, he could not live with the thought of letting someone die and do nothing, even if that someone is a bully. He stands up, grabs Morty’s shoulder and shakes it slightly, trying to attract Morty’s attention.

“Morty, tell him to stop, tell your grandfather to stop! Morty! He – he is going to kill him! Morty, tell him to stop!”

The chilling look in Morty’s eyes frightens him.

“He tried to do bad things to – to me, to – to us. He should know this is going to happen.” His voice which is usually lively and soaked with nervousness is now emotionless.

The terrified expression on Edward’s face must have been noticed by Morty because there is a bit of uncertainty flickering in his eyes, but he stubbornly refuses to say anything else. Edward can not believe in his ears, he clutches both hands onto Morty’s upper-arms, depression is gnawing his heart.

“How – how could you say that?! He was not trying to kill you! He was just being stupid! That was not murder! Morty! Tell Mr. Sanchez to stop! Or you are just as horrible as them! No! Morty, you are even worse than them!”

The last sentence slips out of his tongue unintentionally, but what’s done is done. Morty could have been looked better if he was punched. He stares at Edward in horror, hurt, and betrayal are visible in his eyes. Edward intends to correct his mistake but Mr. Sanchez’s voice rings out in the deadly silence.

_“Morty.”_ One word, plain and simple. However, the implications in it and the stare they exchange seems to convey thousands of words. The man has pulled the ill-fated bully out of the water, silently waiting for his grandson response.

Morty brushes Edward’s hand off as if they burned him, then steps to his grandfather’s side and takes his hand voluntarily, whispering softly. “Let’s – Let’s just go home, grandpa Rick.”

“It’s okay now, _baby_.” Mr. Sanchez soothes him. One hand callously let go of the unconscious boy in his hand and pulls out the gun with the green light Edward has seen before. He fires a shot on the wall, opening a portal. The other hand is put on Morty’s nape, gripping reassuringly. The weird look that Edward often sees on Mr. Sanchez’s face whenever he departs with Morty is back again, but Edward is too exhausted to care. The man and Morty have gone, leaving Edward behind again, distraught and disorientated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only one more chapter. God, I'm still not satisfied with this, but I tried my best. I would love to hear what you think, please comment! I'm dying to hear some thoughts about this mess ;~;


End file.
